


If You Can’t Stand the Heat

by broedym



Series: Restaurant Wars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Chef Poe, Cooking, DameRey, Damerey Renaissance, Damerey Resistance, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Server Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 00:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broedym/pseuds/broedym
Summary: Rey hates her server job at the fancy restaurant but it pays well so she’ll stick it out… until she has a run in with the talented executive chef, Poe Dameron, and she begins to wonder if any amount of money is worth putting up with his arrogant ass.





	If You Can’t Stand the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just write over 5,000 words of Poe as a professional chef just so he can cook for Rey? Yes. Yes I did. 
> 
> Rated for swearing because like Poe and Rey I have a potty mouth, apparently.

Cons for working at this ridiculously hyped fine dining restaurant, Rey thought, as she started her third week on the job:

  1. The heels – what sadist made the wait staff walk around in pumps all day? They pinched her toes and made her feet ache, and she longed for the sturdy work boots she’d worn in her old job.


  1. The sadist himself - a.k.a the restaurant’s general manager, Ben Solo. Heir to hotel magnate Leia Organa, and all around creep who insisted on point 1. Rumor was he’d been managing one of the family’s international hotels when an incident occurred that was hushed up, and now he was back in the restaurant business as penance.


  1. The skeevy businessmen whose glances grew more obvious and suggestive with each overpriced bottle of wine they ordered over lunch. The ones she forced herself to smile demurely at because, as much as she pretended it didn’t (and made her want to set herself on fire), it meant better tips.


  1. The pretentiousness – the whole place reeked of it. Sure, years after opening it was still one of the hottest restaurants in the city and they were booked out for weeks in advance. But it was just food at the end of the day. The fact that their patrons paid the obscene prices to eat there was sickening to Rey.



She sighed as the service manager rattled off the day’s specials and the stupidly long list of locally sourced and artisanal ingredients that she was supposed to memorize. She forced herself to remember the pros for working there, and why she’d begged her roommate Rose – and the restaurant’s host – for her help to get it.

The money was number one. (And two and three and four.) She had to work to put herself through college and applications for grad school were looming. The fact was fine dining restaurants paid better than fast food ones, and that was her next option if this job fell through.

Thanks to Rose, who had fudged (outright lied about, really) her previous experience, she’d gotten the job. Rey didn’t want to let her friend down. So, a kind-of pro for her mental list.

“Don’t wait up for me tonight,” Rose whispered as she grabbed Rey by the elbow after the staff briefing.

“Oh? Did a certain sous chef finally ask you out?”

“Maybe,” she replied slyly. “We _might_ be going out for a drink after work.”

Rey pouted in response. “I thought we were going to celebrate my first Saturday night shift, and spend all those big tips you promised I’d be making.”

“I know, honey, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’re not sorry,” Rey said, followed by a dramatic sigh. “Fine, go and have a wonderful date with the wonderful Finn. Don’t worry about me. Just be safe and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Rose straightened her tight black dress with a smirk. “Don’t count on it. Good luck tonight! You’ll do great.”

**********

Three hours later and Rey had a new con for her list:

  1. Poe Dameron, executive chef. Widely considered one of the best chefs of his generation. Leia Organa’s boy wonder. And all round arrogant fucking asshole, as far as Rey was concerned.



She heard Rose’s warm greeting filter in from the front of the restaurant.

“Good evening, welcome to _Yavin_.”

**********

Everything had been going smoothly up until that point. The stakes were higher on evening shifts, more so on a weekend. The business types and tourists that Rey was used to at lunch were replaced with ludicrously fashionable couples and tables of well-to-do families and friends. She still couldn’t get over the excess of it all – the eye-wateringly expensive bottles of wine, not to mention the food prices. Rey thought it was obscene, until the tips from her first covers of the night exceeded even Rose’s estimation.

Sure, she’d knocked over a water glass and stepped on the back of what she only assumed to be a dress worth more than her entire wardrobe, but all in all it was going well. She’d even been able to conquer her sudden fear of the kitchen where their illustrious executive chef was running the pass.

Rey had seen Poe Dameron plenty of times at the restaurant, but lunch service was different – mostly fixed three-course covers so they could turn the tables over quickly. Expediting was usually left to Finn as sous chef, as Dameron apparently had better things to do with his time. Finn and Rey had quickly established a friendly rapport. It helped that he was unashamedly probing her for information about her roommate who he’d had a crush on for months. Finn was loud and funny and the kitchen was loud and funny when he was running it.

But at night the kitchen was Dameron’s domain, it seemed. There was a seriousness to all the back of house staff – they moved with a new sense of urgency that was intensely focused and well orchestrated. He stood at the pass barking orders at the other chefs, checking each plate for the minutest mistakes before calling for service. Rey avoided eye contact at the counter and never said a word to him, as Rose had instructed her, even going so far as to holding her breath any time she collected an order.

She couldn’t deny that his reputation as a culinary wunderkind was deserved. (The fierce, exacting persona apparently came with the territory.) Rey had tasted his food along with the other servers and it was exceptional. Perhaps not worth the insane prices they charged, and he wasn’t actually the one doing the cooking, but nevertheless he was the reason so many continued to flock to eat at _Yavin_.

They were on the second seating for the night when a new four-top was placed in her section. Rose seated the guests with smooth precision and before Rey could walk over to introduce herself, Ben Solo was there kissing the cheeks of the older woman at the table.

“Table 12 is VIP, Leia Organa,” Rose murmured as she passed her. She left Rey with an apologetic glance for assigning it to her on her very first evening shift.

Rey took a deep breath and approached the table where Ben was still conversing with his mother and her guests. She could do this, she thought, it was just another table. She commenced her usual spiel while Ben left to personally retrieve a fancy bottle of wine and no doubt warn the kitchen of their special guests.

Everything was fine – Rey didn’t stumble once when addressing the big boss’s table, and the neighboring six-top left her a 30% tip. So she wasn’t prepared later in the evening when Leia Organa, lips pursed, motioned her over and murmured that her guest’s plate needed to be returned to the kitchen.

Rey could feel the sweat trickle down the back of her neck when she brought it to the pass, and requested that a filet be replaced because it was overcooked. Dameron snatched the plate from her.

“Excuse me, what?” he snapped while glowering at her under the heat lamps. His eyes were as black as his beard, a deep crease between his brows.

“The gentleman on table 12 ordered it medium rare and he said this is medium,” she replied after a gulp.

He poked at the food with his finger, swore, then scanned the pieces of paper stuck to the top of the pass.  

“What does that say?” he demanded, shoving the table’s docket in front of her face.

“Um, table 12, four-top—” she said uncertainly.

“The _fucking filet temperature_ , genius.”

Rey’s face was hot from more than the heat lamps. “Medium.”

“Medium,” Poe repeated. “And what did you say he asked for?”

“Medium rare.”

“Medium rare. So, not medium. On a fucking VIP ticket.”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Well I’m glad you’re sorry, Rachel. You might want to mention that to the woman who owns this place who you just embarrassed.”

“It’s Rey,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“My name is Rey.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what your name is. Put in the goddamn order correctly or get the fuck out of my kitchen!” He turned away from her. “Refire! One filet medium rare on the fly.”

“Heard! Sixty seconds, Chef,” shouted Finn in response.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Poe said sharply when she turned to go back to the dining room. “Stand there until I tell you to go.”

He continued expediting other dishes that were collected swiftly by servers who knew what they were doing, while Rey stewed with humiliation. The transgression of returned food was bad enough for the demanding chef, but when it was for a guest of Leia Organa’s it was apparently a cardinal sin.

“One medium rare filet, table 12. With our apologies. Got it, Rachel?” Dameron was talking to her again, and it took her a few seconds to snap to attention. He didn’t even look at her when she took the plate, a small mercy.

Leia Organa did not glance up either when she delivered the replacement dish. Ben was working the other side of the room and she hoped he hadn’t heard of her mistake. It was then, with tears stinging her eyes as she slipped away to collect herself in the staff restroom, that Rey got angry about the whole sorry mess. Angry at the egotistical executive chef for yelling at her, but mostly at herself for letting such a stupid thing upset her. Sure, she needed the money, but it wasn’t worth being humiliated over a small misstep. No one died, and undoubtedly the guy wasn’t even paying for his exorbitantly priced meal. Rey took a few cleansing breaths, composed herself, and went back into the dining room, determined to not let him get to her.

She completed her shift with a fake smile, counting down the minutes until she could leave. Ben had other ideas, and volunteered her to stay behind to polish the flatware (the job everyone hated), before he departed with his mother and her guests. Rose heard about what had happened and offered to stay behind and help but Rey insisted she keep her date with Finn.

Soon she was sat in the corner of the now empty dining room and distracted herself with the mindless task, as the bussers and kitchen hands went about their closing duties. Rey decided to be grateful for the extra time she was getting paid, and it was past midnight when she finally shoved the hated heels in her locker and slipped on her trainers for the train ride home.

She pushed her way out of the back door and took in a deep breath of the cold night air, relieved to finally be done.

“Hard day?”

Her eyes snapped open and she saw him sitting on a pile of pallets in the alleyway, smoking a cigarette and scrolling through his phone, talking to her as if nothing had happened. Dameron’s white jacket was open revealing a dark t-shirt underneath, his legs stretched out before him. _Comfy shoes_ , she noted absently while she pondered how to respond. _Asshole._

Her face grew red with embarrassment when no suitable retort came immediately to mind, so she just walked away without a word.

“Hey, wait,” he called out after her. “Rey, hang on.”

She stopped and looked back at him. At least he got her name right. Then it occurred to her that maybe it was because he was about to fire her, and she almost started to leave again.

“What?” she said instead.

He stood up and ran a hand through his unruly curls. “Listen, don’t worry about what happened earlier. Leia was fine.”

“I wasn’t worried, Chef,” she lied, wishing her voice sounded stronger when she really wanted to punch his stupid (and stupidly handsome) face. Somehow the fact that he was so good looking increased her ire.

“Poe.”

“What?”

“Service is over. Call me Poe.”

Rey frowned in response.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” he admitted, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I’ve been a bit on edge.”

“Okay.” Her grip on her handbag loosened. It wasn’t quite the apology she would have liked, though she wondered if the word was even in his vocabulary.

He held out a crushed packet in his hand. “Want one?”

She hesitated, mostly because she rarely smoked, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in his presence any more than was absolutely necessary. After a few seconds she walked back and accepted the cigarette and light. She willed herself not to cough as the acrid smoke was expelled from her lungs.

“You did fuck up though,” he commented lightly.

Rey pressed her lips together, trying to deciding if the job was really worth it or if she should tell him what she really thought of his behavior. _Fucking asshole._

“Yep,” she acknowledged.

“It happens.” Poe returned to his seat and sat with a quiet groan.

Rey stood awkwardly as she smoked her cigarette, unsure if she was supposed to join him.

“How long have you worked here?” he asked, tucking his phone in his jacket pocket.

“A few weeks.”

“I take it this isn’t your dream job.” His tone was friendly enough, but every word still irritated her.

“No, but it pays more than what I was doing before,” she conceded. “And it means I can afford books for school and other boring stuff like rent and, you know, food.”

“So waitressing is your backup?” he deadpanned.

“I guess so.”

Poe contemplated her as he took a long drag, a faint smile on his lips when he exhaled.

Rey took a step closer, a new curl of worry in her gut. She really couldn’t afford to get fired right now. “Ms. Organa wasn’t mad?”

“Nah, she doesn’t get hung up on shit like that. Perks of owning the place, I guess.”

Maybe she still had a job after all. Poe didn’t say any more and she wondered if she was supposed to leave now that he was done talking to her.

“Why are you on edge?” she asked. Rey wasn’t even sure where the question came from.

“Huh?”

“You said before you were on edge, which is why you yelled at me. And swore at me.”

He rubbed at the back of his head, messing his dark curls further. “Geez, what an asshole.”

She nodded in agreement which resulted in a snort of laughter from him.

“It’s just been a shitty couple days,” he admitted. “We’re waiting to hear if we got a second star. We should’ve heard by now.”

Rey nodded again in what she hoped was a convincing way. She knew little of the awards and other accolades the restaurant had won.

“People seem to like it,” she offered. “They certainly pay enough to come here.”

Rey’s face flushed when she realized how that sounded, but Poe just looked amused. “Not that I’m complaining, of course,” she went on quickly. “It’s just I’m not much of a foodie. I’ll eat anything.”

“Music to a chef’s ears.”

“I guess I just don’t get the need for all this…” She waved her hands about.

“All this what?”

She searched for the best way to convey her thoughts. “Decadence. It all seems like such a waste of money to me.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said tiredly. “About the awards and shit like that. But not food. Food is memory.”

Rey moved slowly to sit on an upended box nearby. Poe stared at his hands for a few moments before speaking.

“What’s the first thing you remember eating?”

She thought for a moment. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

“For me it was my grandfather’s rice and beans. I remember sitting in his kitchen, I couldn’t have been more than three years old. Everytime I eat it I still think of him.”

Silence fell as he smoked and Rey kept her eyes down, thinking.

“Mac and cheese,” she said after a while.

“What?”

“That’s what I remember eating. It was the first thing I taught myself to make when I was six or seven. Out of a packet, of course. But it was cheap and it was easy and I could make it myself. I still love it.”

Rey smiled to herself at the memory until it evoked other parts of her past that were best left forgotten. The expression faded.

“Why were you making mac and cheese for yourself at that age?”

She shrugged mutely, instantly regretting saying anything to him but finding herself unable to stop. She never talked about such things with anyone. “My parents weren’t home much when I was a kid. I was kinda left to my own devices. No grandfather to cook for me.”

“So you taught yourself.”

“Yep,” Rey said, squaring her shoulders. “Then I left when I was sixteen.”

Poe nodded but didn’t comment. She knew he would have no earthly idea that she’d revealed to him something she had only ever shared with a handful of people. And she had no idea why she did it, except that she was exhausted and had been far too emotional for one evening.

“I started working in kitchens when I was sixteen, and I guess I never left,” Poe went on, unaware of her brooding thoughts.

Rey was more than happy to focus her attention on someone other than herself. “Did you always want to be a chef?”

“I suppose. My parents were both ex-military so that was probably my only other likely path. Then Leia gave me my first job as a line cook in one of her hotels and I’ve been with her ever since.”

“And now you have your own place.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

Rey regarded him. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to say this, but you don’t exactly sound happy about it.”

“Maybe not.”

He fished out another cigarette and offered the pack to her again but she shook her head. She hadn’t even really wanted the first one.

“Why aren’t you happy?” she asked, ignoring the voice in her head that it wasn’t the sort of question you were supposed to ask someone. Especially your boss. Especially when said boss had yelled at you a couple of hours ago.

“I don’t know. What’s next? More awards?” Poe said unenthusiastically. “More money?”

“Oh Jesus.” Rey couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “My heart bleeds for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a self indulgent asshole, okay? I know it,” he griped. “It’s just… I don’t even know if I want any of it anymore. It used to be fun. I used to dream about food and I’d wake up with all these ideas. Now it’s just...” He blew a loud raspberry.

She had zero sympathy for him. “So why not quit? Go do something else.”

“Like what? I hated school, this is all I know. And 33 is getting a little old to start over.”

Rey didn’t know what else to say. Nothing that wouldn’t potentially offend him, anyway. She decided she should quit while she was ahead (and still had a job). She stood up to leave.

“Well, good luck with your existential crisis,” she said which elicited another chortle from him. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night. I’m on again.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Poe looked up at her with a mix of disappointment and something that was close to desperation.

“Home.”

“Already?”

Rey checked her watch. “It’s after midnight.”

“Huh,” he grunted and checked his own watch. “Are you hungry?”

She felt immediately wary. “Why?”

“Come on,” he said, grinding out his cigarette as he got up.

“I should probably just go.”

“It’s the least I could do to make up for earlier.” Poe walked to the back door without waiting for her.

Still not an apology, she thought, but found herself following him into the kitchen. The last two porters were finishing up and bid them goodnight. If they questioned what the executive chef was doing alone late at night with one of the servers they didn’t react, and Rey thought with a grimace that it was probably wasn’t the first time this scenario had played out. But she really was hungry, damn it. If he had ideas of anything else happening he was in for a rude shock.

Poe disappeared into the cold room and re-emerged with an armful of ingredients.

“You don’t have to cook for me,” she tried again. “I can get a burger or something on my way home.”

The disgust on his face was evident. He went to the dry store next and came back with a few more items including a bag of dried macaroni.

“No,” Rey said with a snort. “You definitely don’t need to cook mac and cheese for me. You’re this fancy chef and all.”

“I can cook mac and cheese,” Poe said in a vaguely offended tone while he washed his hands. “I can make you the best damn mac and cheese you’ve ever had in your life.”

“You _really_ don’t have to do that.” He ignored her and Rey ran her gaze over the dozen or so ingredients on the bench. “You know with my version you only need to add water.”

“Stop, you’re killing me.” He filled a pasta boiler and placed it on the large gas range, then set up three cutting boards on the bench. After he’d selected a couple of knives from a roll he picked up an onion and tossed it to her. “Here, you can help.”

“Er, I don’t cook.”

“It’s not cooking, it’s chopping. Nice and fine. Don’t cut yourself, it’s sharp.”

Rey looked dubiously at the knife and board while Poe went about gathering a grater and other utensils from around the kitchen, humming to himself the whole time. She took a moment to wash up and, after a deep breath, she sliced the onion in half then into quarters. She remembered the skin and peeled the pieces, two of which slipped apart in her hands. She successfully pushed them back together so she could keep chopping, then glanced up to find him watching her with a pained expression.

“I can’t stand it, you’re going to lose a fingertip. Here,” he groused, holding out his hand for the knife. He nudged aside her onion and started afresh. “Ends first and peel, then halve it. Cut horizontally like this and then down.”

Rey tried not to look impressed by the swift work he made of it, resulting in perfectly sized bits in a just seconds. “You should do this for a living.”

Ceding the workspace to him, she stood on the other side of the bench and watched as he prepped the myriad of ingredients.

“Since when does mac and cheese have onion and garlic in it?” she protested. “And what is that, saffron? And _anchovies_?” Rey wrinkled her nose in confusion.

“Just a couple. You allergic? Any seafood issues?”

“No, like I said, I’ll eat anything.”

“Thought so.” Poe put a cast iron pot with a stick of butter in it on another burner and dropped the macaroni to boil. “Can you go grab me a bottle of white Burgundy from the bar?”

With a shake of her head at yet another unnecessary addition, she did as she was asked. By the time she returned with the elusive bottle (wine was either white or red as far as she was concerned but he’d specifically asked for a Burgundy), the entire kitchen smelled of simmering onion and garlic. Her stomach growled in response.

“My mac and cheese smells nothing like this,” she declared after an appreciative sigh.

“Right?” Poe had another pan on the stove now, covered in more bubbling butter. He found a sealed container from the below bench fridge.

“What is that?”

“Lobster tails.”

She snorted, assuming he was joking.

“You don’t like lobster?”

“I don’t eat lobster. You’re surprised by this?”

“You’ll love it,” he assured her.

He slipped half a dozen tails into the butter and began basting them with a spoon. In between he poured a long slug of wine into the other pot, the aroma from which made her mouth water, and began alternating between the seafood and the sauce he was creating. After the lobster tails were off the heat he concentrated on the pot. Every couple of minutes he’d try a little with a spoon before adding some kind of ground red pepper, mustard, and salt and pepper. He finished it by adding flour then milk, followed by an indecent amount of cheese – three different kinds.

The pasta’s timer going off broke Rey’s reverie – watching him work so effortlessly was mesmerizing. Poe pulled the wire colander out of the boiling water and set the macaroni to drain. He stopped humming when he returned to the bench to slice the lobster meat, and offered her a spoonful.

“Better make sure you like it,” he murmured.

Rey took a bite. It was soft and tasted of butter, salt and not nearly as fishy as she thought it might be. “It’s… good?”

“High praise,” he said derisively, and popped a piece into his mouth too.

“I don’t have a lot to compare it to.”

Poe added the lobster to the combined pasta and sauce, poured it into a shallower dish that was then covered in parmesan cheese and shoved under a hot grill. After that he turned on his heel and left the kitchen for the dining room. Rey wasn’t sure if she was supposed to follow but he was back within a few minutes, in time to pick up the now brown-topped dish. Then he was leaving again.

“Come on,” he called over his shoulder and Rey scrambled to catch up.

In the dining room she found that Poe had set up one of the small tables for two. He set the dish down and wandered over to the bar to retrieve a bottle of white wine.

“Sit, sit,” he ordered when she stood uncertainly by a chair. He opened the bottle with a soft pop and poured two glasses.

“Are we allowed to drink this?” she asked with a hint of trepidation. Poe waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and served them both a generous portion of the food.

“Okay, I admit it looks a bit nicer than my usual attempts,” she said as graciously as she could. She was about to try it when he held up his wine glass for a toast.

“I hope you enjoy my apology mac and cheese,” he said in a gentler voice than she’d ever heard from him.

That was his third almost ‘I’m sorry’. Rey let out a breath and pinned him with a look. “You could just say it.”

“Say what?”

“Something like ‘I’m sorry, Rey, that I overreacted and yelled at you in front of the entire kitchen.’”

Poe seemed genuinely surprised. “I yell every day. At every single person in the kitchen.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

He set down his glass with a soft huff. “Listen, when you work in a hot, pressurized environment like a professional kitchen…”

“It doesn’t give you license to be a jerk. I don’t care how talented you are, or how amazing your food is.” Rey’s eyes widened slightly and she shut her mouth to stop herself from talking. She’d done it now. _So long, job._

Once again Poe just looked at her as if he were amused. He picked up his glass again. “Rey. I’m sorry I overreacted and yelled at you in front of the entire kitchen.”

A small smile appeared on her lips as she held up her glass to his. “Poe, I’m sorry I stuffed up an order, especially on our boss’s table.”

His smiled back, his white teeth in stark contrast to his beard. “You called me Poe.”

“It’s after service,” she reminded him unnecessarily, acutely aware of the swoop in her stomach that she tried to blame on hunger.

They clinked glasses together and Rey took a sip of wine. She didn’t want to know how much it cost when it tasted this good, and wondered vaguely how much all of the meal was worth in ingredients alone.

“Aren’t you going to eat it?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

Rey picked up her fork and dug in, making sure she got a good bit of the lobster. Once the food was in her mouth and Poe was watching her intently, she felt warmth rising from her chest to her ears and she paused mid-chew.

“Oh my God,” she moaned without waiting to swallow. “Oh my God, this is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.”

He raised an eyebrow at her but she didn’t even care about the vaguely suggestive comment. She took another bite as soon as she was able.

“Poe, seriously, this is amazing.”

He looked pleased at the compliment, his eyes lighting up like a kid with a new toy. “Yeah?”

“Come on, you know it is.” Rey figured it was false modesty until he broke out in a full grin at her continued noises of pleasure. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it. Chefs are needy like that.”

“We all like compliments, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

Poe stabbed at a piece of lobster. “In that case, I like your honesty. That’s my compliment to you.”

Rey felt pleased herself. “Thank you.”

“And I like your smile.”

She stopped eating. “What?”

He stared back unapologetically. “You smile with both rows of teeth when it’s with someone you like. I noticed when you were with Rose, not long after you started here. Then with Finn the other day.”

She felt her cheeks grow warmer. She honestly figured he didn’t know who she was until a few hours ago. “I suppose I never noticed.”

Rey grew quiet as they kept eating, and thankfully Poe took the opportunity to talk more about starting out as a chef when he couldn’t wait to get into the kitchen every day. She listened to him while eating a huge portion of the mac and cheese, and trying not to stare at his mouth which was annoyingly distracting.

When they were done she insisted on helping to clean up and did the dishwashing while Poe put away the food. Then he presented her with a container of leftovers.

“You realize that you’ve ruined mac and cheese for me forever,” she said, and accepted it without a word of protest. “Now I’ll be stuck eating canned ravioli.”

“Stop, stop, I beg you,” he pleaded dramatically. “I can’t hear any more of your sad food choices. Next time, we’re making pasta from scratch.”

Rey bit her lip and didn’t automatically object. Instead she took it for what it was, a friendly invitation to improve her eating habits. She wouldn’t read any more into it, she wouldn’t read—

“If you want, I mean. No pressure,” Poe added hastily. And perhaps even apprehensively, she thought, then dismissed the intriguing idea.

Instead she stuck to joking with him. “This isn’t one of those ‘I’m your boss and I will cook you delicious food and force you to eat it’ situations, is it?”

“Not the force part, anyway.”

She smiled softly. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They walked out together and Poe lit up a cigarette as soon as he had locked up.

“Shit, it’s late. Do you need a ride or something? I don’t have a car,” he seemed to remember. “My apartment’s a block away. Can I get you a cab?”

“I got it,” she replied. Sure, it meant using the extra tip money she’d made but at that moment Rey didn’t care. She wanted to leave before she said or did anything to ruin what had turned out to be a pretty great end to the night (or he did, which was just as likely). “So, thank you for the apology mac and cheese.”

“Next time minus the apology,” he confirmed with a nod. “I hope. I am an asshole, remember, so no guarantees.”

“Lucky you can cook, then. I’ll see you, Chef.”

“G’night Rachel,” he called out after she’d started to walk away.

Rey turned and threw him a grin.

Using both rows of teeth.

 


End file.
